


Honey, I Think You're an Alcoholic

by Huesos_con_Quesos



Category: Undertale (Video Game), underswap (AU) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Underswap, College Sucks, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language!, Reader Is Not Chara, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, reader is female, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huesos_con_Quesos/pseuds/Huesos_con_Quesos
Summary: As much as you try to deny it, alcohol has become your escape from the stresses of college and depression. One night you meet a certain orange-hoodie-wearing skeleton who suspects your problem, so you invite him to your party that you totally didn't just make up to prove that you're fine. He sees right through your lie, and for some reason he makes it his mission to help you.





	Honey, I Think You're an Alcoholic

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy! My first Undertale fanfic! I'm not sure how much I'll write for this, but if people really like it and want to read more I'll definitely keep going. :D

It all started late one Friday afternoon in the fall. You sat cross-legged on your bed, staring blankly at the wall, laptop open in front of you. This writing assignment was seriously stressing you out. Four pages didn’t seem that bad, especially considering you had all weekend to write them. At least, it wouldn’t be that bad if you weren’t terrible when it came to essays. They were pure torture.

On top of that, there was still the normal (read: suffocating) amount of homework from your other classes to deal with. What a fun weekend you had ahead of you.

You tried to look at the bright side. This wasn’t the worst it could get. Most papers you were assigned were ten pages long…

Why you chose to major in English literature escaped you.

That tired, strained, lack-of-motivation feeling finally reached its peak inside you. You’d been doing this now for how long? Three years. You only had two more semesters to go, but in this moment it might as well be an eternity.

You ran your fingers through your hair. You’d been at this paper far too long. All day in fact, and you’d only managed to type the intro.

How did you expect to have a career as a writer if you couldn’t even manage a stupid college essay? You’d _thought_ you were a good writer, but maybe not. Maybe you just weren’t good at anything.

Or maybe it was time for a break. With the stress of everything and all the overthinking, you were mentally exhausted. To be honest, your mental state as of the past few weeks had been exhaustion.

Deep breaths. You would watch an episode of your favorite tv show, then get back to writing.

But you didn’t feel up to watching tv. Instead, you kind of just wanted to melt into oblivion.

Your eyes flickered to the glass bottle on your desk. The gleaming amber liquid inside seemed to wink at you.

Nope. You had a ton of work to do. You couldn’t afford to waste time getting plastered. No matter how amazing it might feel.

You stared out the window trying to think of anything else.

Wow, what a clear, cloudless day it was!

Yep. Really blue sky.

…

Dammit! Fine! But you were going to be good the rest of the weekend and not slack off.

The only problem: a fourth-of-a-bottle of whiskey was not enough to do the trick, which was all you had.

You grabbed your purse, threw on some shoes, and left your apartment.

\---------------

The bus ride and subsequent half-a-mile walk to the liquor store was not your favorite trip, but the payoff was worth it.

You walked into the store, familiar bell jingling on the doorframe. Shelves and shelves of glittering glass welcomed you in. Just being here made you sigh with… relief? Contentment? Should it bother you (the introvert that you were) that a public store could make you feel so relaxed?

You headed over to the whiskey section and grabbed your usual Jack Daniels. You were about to take it to the register when the moonshine caught your eye. You’d always wanted to try that. Raspberry moonshine? You lifted the bottle and watched as whole raspberries swirled around inside. Yep. That boy’s coming home with you.

You glanced over at the tequila. Might as well get some to stock up. Lately you’d been draining your alcohol supply quickly, and getting a bottle or two more would save you some trips. You hummed as you walked over.

As you perused the different brands, someone came up beside you.

“tequila, huh? i’d recommend this kind,” he said, pointing to a thin, gray bottle. “but i might be a little biased.”

Looking up, you were initially shocked to find he was a monster. A skeleton monster, to be exact. He wore a lazy grin and tired eyesockets. The hand he was pointing with drew back to join the other in the pocket of his orange hoodie.

Not wanting to stare, you quickly turned back to the shelf. You laughed when you picked up the bottle. There were mariachi-dressed skeletons decorating the label.

“Yeah, probably biased,” you said, putting it back. “Maybe I’d drink this if I wanted to look like you.”

The tall skeleton chuckled. “is it really that bad?”

You made a face. “It could probably peel paint.” Reaching for a bottle with blue liquid, you continued, “I find this stuff easier to down.”

He took it from you, examining the label. “hmm, added citrus flavor.” He smirked. “i see. you’re one of those girls that can’t down a drink unless it’s fruity and packed with sugar.”

“Dead wrong,” you said. “Check this stuff out.” You held up your large mason jar.

“raspberry moonshine?” He raised a browbone. “you’re proving my point, hon.”

You scoffed in mock offence. “Excuse me, this is one-hundred-proof. Prissy girls beware.”

“i bet it’s still loaded with sugar,” he quipped.

“Sugary or not, it’ll knock you on your ass.”

He hummed. “i’ll have to take your word for it. i don’t have an ass.”

You giggled at the joke, tucking the jar into the crook of your arm with the other two bottles.

“that’s a lot of booze ya got there,” the skeleton commented. “throwin’ a party?”

Was it a lot? For one person, perhaps. But you were stocking up! You weren’t going to drink it all at once. “Uh, yeah.” Why did you lie? It’s not like it mattered.

He looked slightly skeptical, but you’re glad he didn’t push it.

“Well it was nice meeting you, uh…?”

“papyrus.” He held out a hand.

“Y/n.” You put your hand in his and immediately felt a tiny zap. You squeaked in surprise, trying not to drop your bottles.

“heh, the old buzzer-in-the-hand trick,” he grinned. “it’s _always_ funny.”

“Who are you, my grandpa?” you teased.

He shrugged. “i guess i look old enough, huh?”

This elicited another giggle from you. “I’ll see you around, Papyrus.” You gave a friendly nod and headed towards the register.

“yep.” He gave a small wave.

The cashier rung up your purchases and you thought about what else you needed to get while you were out. You were going to need lemonade. That was your by far your favorite chaser. And you also needed snacks. Salty snacks.

Just when you were starting to get excited, the cashier gave you your total. “That’s gonna be $77.20.”

Your eyes widened. That was almost a hundred dollars! With a frown, you went ahead and swiped your card. It was worth it, you’d just need to make it last. It would take you a while to finish all these off. Three weeks minimum. You could probably make it last a month. Yeah, a $75-a-month liquor budget was do-able.

The cashier brown-bagged your bottles, and you stuffed them into your reusable grocery sack and were on your way.

\---------------

It was one week later, and you were in the exact same predicament despite your resolve to make the liquor last.   

You returned to the store and bought three more bottles. On your walk back home, you weren’t really paying attention as someone came around the corner of an alley, smacking right into you. You let out a grunt of surprise, falling flat on your butt. The bag of liquor landed beside you with a clatter.

“Watch where you’re going,” you said in annoyance, checking through your bag for damages. It seemed like everything was intact.

“sorry,” the man said. “didja have a nice trip, at least?”

Confused, you looked up to meet his eyes, but instead found a familiar pair of eye sockets. The orange-hoodied skeleton held out a hand.

“Oh, hey!” you said, allowing him to help you up. “I remember you. Pa—uh, sorry, what was your name again?”

“papyrus,” he grinned. “and you’re y/n.”

“Yep, that’s me.” You dusted off your jeans and shouldered your bag.

Papyrus nodded towards it. “another party this week, huh?”

“Yep.” You fidgeted with the straps.

He gave you a knowing smirk. “ya don’t look like the party-every-weekend type.”

“Well, stereotypes are often wrong, Mr. Walking Dead,” you said defiantly.

“point taken,” he shrugged. “so, where is this party? am i invited?” His grin grew to shit-eating proportions.

Shoot. “Uh, sorry. It’s just a friend party.”

“are you saying you’re not friends with monsters?”

Seriously? You eyed him carefully. He was totally testing you. “Fine, you can come.” You were going to prove to him… what, exactly?

“really? are ya sure?” The small sparkle of curious disbelief in his eyelights said he was giving you an out. But you weren’t going to back down.

“Yep! Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

His playful smirk returned as you handed him your phone.

“It starts at nine. Bring chips or something.”

“you got it.” He gave your phone back with a wink and walked off.

Shit, shit, shit! What in the world were you thinking? You can’t throw an impromptu party just to prove a point! You began fast-walking home, sweat clamming up your hands.

Whipping out your phone again, you first texted Papyrus your address, then called your friend Savannah. Well, friend was a loose word. You’d been in a couple study groups together. She was definitely more of the party-every-weekend type than you, though.

You asked her to invite a handful of people over for drinking games and a movie, and she was happy to comply. You also called and ordered a couple large pizzas, a sigh of relief escaping you when you hung up. That was all there was to it, huh? It was almost too easy.

When nine rolled around, the pizzas had just been delivered and your apartment was cleaned spotless. Savannah was the first to show up, her boyfriend glued to her side.

“This is your apartment?” she asked, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I thought it would be bigger.”

You prickled a little. “Sorry?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re going to throw a big party, it has to be a big apartment,” she shrugged.

You laughed nervously. “I thought you only invited a few people.”

“I did,” she giggled, “but David here invited a few more.” She elbowed him playfully.

“You can thank me later,” he said as they pushed past you into the living room.

Shit. You should’ve known this is how it would turn out. You’d seen enough movies with similar situations. You would just have to pray you could get your deposit back after this.

It wasn’t a long wait before more and more guests showed up. One carried in a large speaker that was soon pounding with trap music, causing the little string lights lining your living room to shake. Many people brought their own booze, which was a relief. You slyly snuck two of your three bottles back into your room, locking the door on the way out. No need to waste them if you didn’t need to.

Parties were not your scene. They were stressful, this one especially because it was in your own home. But you were here. And it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Might as well get hammered and try to enjoy it.

You threw back four shots of whiskey. That ought to do the trick. You resolved not to do any more, needing to keep some semblance of wit about you.

Right when you felt the alcohol hit you was when you saw Papyrus walk through the door. Or, well, squeeze through. It was pretty packed. A few people turned to stare at the novelty monster, but just as soon became distracted again with the party.

“Hey,” you called. “You’re late!”

“nah,” he grinned. “everyone else is early.”

You snorted. “That’s _the_ oldest excuse ever.”

“then it suits me.”

You laughed, probably too hard. “Want some pizza?” you asked, pointing behind you at the table.

“what pizza?”

Turning around, you saw it was all gone. The boxes weren’t even there anymore.

“What the!” You broke into a fit of giggles. “Already? I guess they were hungry.”

“it’s cool, i brought cheetos.” He held up the bag, and immediately it was snatched away into the crowd.

“Careful!” you laughed. “They might eat you, too!”  

“somehow i doubt that,” he said. “not much meat on my bones.”

This sent you into another giggle fit. “You want something to drink, then? Someone brought a whooole ton of tequila.”

“i could use a drink, sure.”

You led him over to the kitchen and proceeded to pour half a plastic cup’s worth of tequila for him.

“uh, that’s a bit much,” he chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” You grabbed another cup and carefully poured a smaller serving. “Here you go.”

“thanks.” He took it from you and brought his other hand over the rim. Orange light sprinkled from his fingertips into the drink.

“Woah, is that magic?” you asked, leaning closer.

“heh, yeah,” he shrugged. “without it, this drink would go right through me.”

“That is sooo cool!” you said, taking the half-full cup and swigging it back.

“uh, hon, don’t tell me you’re gonna drink all of that.”

You lowered the cup, grimacing at the taste. “Nah, just some of it.”

“have you already had something to drink tonight?” He looked concerned, and that bothered you.

“What? No, I only had like…” you started counting on your fingers. “Probably five? I’m five. Fine.”

“uh huh.” He glanced around at the crowd. They were all just dancing, drinking, and sitting on the furniture at this point, but it was still early in the night. “is this your place?”

“Yeah, I already know it’s small.”

He shrugged, watching as you took another swig.  

“i can’t believe you threw a fake party.”

“Fake—!” you almost choked on your drink. “These people aren’t cardboard cutouts!”

“might as well be,” he smirked.

“This is a real party.” You lifted your hand to his shoulder for emotional emphasis but missed, patting your hand up his arm to the target. “Real as ffffuck.”

He watched you with mild amusement. “okay. welp, i think i’m gonna go. i’m not much of a party guy.”

“Already? But you just got here?” you cried. “I have to… I have to prove I’m not an alcoholic.”

He paused at this, raising a browbone. “to someone you don’t even know?”

“I…” Your face scrunched up in confusion, deep-thinking skills fuzzy. “Yeah?”

“i think you’re tryin’ to prove it to yourself.”

You felt heat flood into your cheeks. “I’m not,” you said, trying to control your rising temper.

“whatever. like i said, i’m gonna go. have fun.” He turned away and started pushing through the crowd.

“Why’d you even come in the first place?” you yelled after him.

He turned back to you and shrugged, then continued on his way.

You stared in foggy disbelief and rage. This was all for him, and he was leaving. What a jerk.

\---------------

Papyrus stood on the sidewalk outside your apartment, lighting a cigarette. He took a deep drag and exhaled with a sigh. He supposed it was the right thing to do.

Holding his phone up to his skull, he said, “yeah, i’d like to report a disturbance.”        

**Author's Note:**

> Papyrus! You nerd! Why'd you do that??


End file.
